Confused, Grace reaches for the bag, and upon seeing what’s inside, her eyes go wide with delight. Little Debbie Zebra Cakes. Ho Hos. Every flavor of Skittles you can buy. And best of all, Reese’s. Three bright orange king-size packs, and then about thirty of the small, individually wrapped bite-size ones.
“Oh my God,” Grace gasps, digging her hand immediately into the sea of goodies. “Chocolate.”
Caia off-loads the other bags onto the love seat. She gestures to the duffel bag and says, “I brought you some clothes and shoes.” In the middle of tearing open one of the packs of Reese’s, Grace pauses, her eyes drifting to the pink bag. It’s practically bursting at the seams—all the clothes Grace owns couldn’t stuff a bag that much. Probably wouldn’t even take up half of it. She stares quizzically at it, then looks back to Caia. The question must be written all over her face, because Caia levels her with alook, and Grace is starting to recognize the expression as herHere’s the deallook. And whatever follows that look seems to have a way of ending arguments, complaints, and general dissent.
“All right, Iboughtyou some clothes. And shoes. And toiletries.” She nods toward the remaining grocery bags. “Couldn’t have you using that watered-down crap they have here, and God knows the bunkhouse only has two-in-one.”
Crew smirks at that and does not deny the truth of it.
Grace’s cheeks have begun to bloom with warmth. People buying things for her, things she didn’t ask for but desperately needs, isn’t something she has much experience with. Most of the generosity she’s experienced in her adult life has been with the Caldwells, and it still baffles her how they can be so giving, so welcoming. So genuinely concerned for her well-being, as though it’s an instinct rather than a task.
An evasive, rejecting response would be the natural way for Grace to respond, but she knows Caia will hear no protests, so she smiles and says, “That was so kind of you, Caia. Thank you.” It rings true and feels right coming out of her mouth, but it’s still a little wobbly, like a colt trying to find its footing.
“Not at all. It was fun,” Caia volleys back with a wave of her hand, and the shine from her dark blue nail polish reflects beneath the hospital’s fluorescent bulbs. “I’m always happy to facilitate a makeover. Although—” She stares at the large windowsill, big enough for multiple people to sit on, or, in this case, where Grace’s new skin care products are, neatly organized and mostly unopened. “It does look like someone might have beaten me to the punch.”
“June,” Grace supplies, smiling down at the washcloth on the overbed table covered in mint-green goop. “She insisted I dosomething about the state of my…” Grace waves an encompassing hand around her face. “My skin, apparently, did not agree with the conditions at Braxton.”
Caia barks out a laugh and says, “Yeah, it was a real fucking wellness spa, that place. Years of dust, giant piles of exotic animal shit, and greasy, unshowered delinquents. You’re telling me youdidn’tfeel pampered?”
“I’d probably give it a negative star on Yelp,” Grace says, unwrapping a Reese’s and shoving it whole into her mouth. “If that’s even a thing,” she murmurs around the chocolate. Her gaze seeks Crew like a well-honed reflex, as if her eyes have gone too long without looking at him. When she finds him sitting on one of the armrests of the love seat, he’s smiling at her softly, his eyes sparkling with quiet affection. Even with her mouth stuffed full of candy and not a care in the world for whatever remnants of it might be on her lips, he looks at her like there’s nothing he adores more in the world. Even in this baggy hospital gown, with her hair an oily mess and her skin still ravaged from days spent unprotected in the sun, she is still perfect, exactly as she is. Perfect to him—perfectforhim.
Unaware of the loaded look being shared between the two of them, Caia claps her hands together and says, “I’m sorry you have to stay overnight. That bed looks like it’s stuffed with packing peanuts. But I figured, if you want…” Caia smiles, and for a brief moment, she almost seems nervous. It’s a strange but endearing look on her, one that has Grace leaning forward, interest piqued. “Maybe I can come back in the morning and help you pick out an outfit. Not that it really matters—I know you’re just going home. But, you know.” She shrugs, that Caldwell confidence already back in full swing. “Might as well look cute doing it.”
Grace grins, touched by the sentiment and warmed by the idea of Caia wanting to help.
“Plus”—Caia throws her hands up—“if my mother sees you in those threadbare Levi’s you came in with, she might disown me for notproperlyinitiating you into the ranks of Caldwell women,” she finishes matter-of-factly, a playfully fearful look in her eyes.
But Grace doesn’t think it’s funny—nor does she afford the proper attention to Caia calling her aCaldwell woman—she’s too caught up in the casualness of the statement, like seeing Renata is something she’s going to do as soon as the next morning. Her eyes dart to Crew, whose expression has turned slightly more serious.
Caia looks between them, her brow furrowing. “What?”
Tears well in Grace’s eyes as she asks, “She’s all right? She’s—awake and talking?”
In a flash, Caia is standing at her brother’s side and whacking him in the bicep with the back of her hand. “You haven’t told her?”
“It’s been a chaotic few hours,” he says evenly, catching Caia’s hand when she tries to hit his other arm. He shoves it until it is stiff at her side and says, “I was going to tell her once things had calmed down a bit.”
Grace can’t see Caia’s face, but she knows the glare that Crew is receiving right now, especially considering the challenging look he gives in return. Eventually, Caia relents, scoffing and turning around to look at Grace. “She’s okay, honey.” She takes a few long strides toward Grace’s bed, and when she’s close enough, she reaches down to place her hand over Grace’s. Her expression is sincere and kind, only the slightest hint of mischief in that ghost of a smile on her lips. “Who do you think sent me out on the shopping spree?”
Chapter 31
For the second time in her life, Grace nervously consents to being the subject of a makeover. June joins Caia in the endeavor, taking on the responsibility of Grace’s morning skin care and makeup. “Nothing crazy,” Grace says, sitting on the edge of the bed as June presses a pink sponge repeatedly into her cheeks. When June doesn’t reply save for a quick roll of her eyes, Grace insists. “June.”
The sponge stills, and June rises to her full height and places her hands on top of Grace’s shoulders. “Relax,” she says, not unkindly. “I’m just gonna wake up your face a little, and color-correct the sunburn.”
While she works diligently on that task, Caia strategically lays out the clothes she bought, ranging from jewel-toned athletic wear to dresses short enough that Grace is sure they wouldn’t cover her entire backside. A pair of jeans lies buried somewhere in the mix, and Grace eyes them multiple times as Caia taps her chin in contemplation, murmuring to herself as she mixes and matches. She shows Grace multiple combos as options, then finally concedes with a scoff when Grace’s eyes keep drifting to the jeans. “Fine,” she sighs. “But I’m picking the top.” She points at Grace with a firm index finger. “No arguments.”
Crew is off somewhere with Cooper; he’d been shooed out of the room as soon as the two women had arrived. Grace wonders what he’s doing at this very moment—almost laughs at herself for how pathetic it is that she actuallymisseshim, even though she was folded up snugly in his arms less than an hour ago. She thinks about the lingering kiss he’d given her before leaving the room, the heated stare they shared for a long moment before Caia insisted he get lost. The message had been clear even without a single word being uttered:We’ll continue this later.She’d nodded and let him go with only a tiny pout, but frankly, Grace is wildly impatient to get tolater. She’s impatient to touch him, to get lost in his kiss without the worry of being interrupted. She’s impatient to feel the weight of him pressing down onto her, to look up and not be able to see anything beyond his breadth. Her mountain of a man. Her beautiful, freckled sky.
It takes nearly an hour before Caia and June are satisfied with the work they’ve done. They’re careful with her casted hand as they help her into her top, a black ribbed tank that hugs her body and somehow accentuates her nonexistent cleavage. They also help her into a pair of black Ariats, shiny and new and stiff as all hell, buthers. “There’s more where these came from,” Caia says as she grunts and shoves one until Grace’s foot is settled within. “I figured you needed a new brown pair, too. But then the saleslady started bringing out all kinds of pretty colors and patterns and I just couldn’t resist.”
Grace winces as the back of the boot scrapes her heel, then sighs once both of her feet are secured. They’re comfortable even in their newness, and she can’t deny that they look good. They probably cost more than she’s spent on boots in a decade, but Grace tries not to think about that, especially consideringCaia’s implication that she purchasedmultiplepairs.She stands from the bed once the boots are fully on and looks down at her body, taking in the way the clothes fit, the paint on her chewed-down nails, the little touches of turquoise and silver from the necklace and bracelet Caia had picked out for her. “We’ll ease you into the jewelry,” she’d said as she strung the silver chain with a small turquoise pendant around Grace’s neck.
At the fifty-eight-minute mark since they walked in and took over, someone knocks on the door. Caia, who had told Crew and Cooper to find something else to do for an hour, shakes her head as she opens it, knowing exactly who is waiting on the other side. She folds her arms over her chest and says to Crew, “You are ridiculous. Being in love makes you ridiculous.”
Grace can’t see them from where she stands in the room while June fusses with her hair one last time, but she can hear his rumbling “Move, please. I want to make sure you didn’t make over my girlfriend the way you used to do with your Barbie dolls.”
“Oh God,” Cooper exclaims. “I forgot about those. You were demented. Didn’t you dye one of them green with food coloring?”
